


just a song before i go

by keptin



Category: Cloud Atlas - All Media Types, Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Dragon Age AU, M/M, pre-ayrs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-18
Updated: 2016-03-18
Packaged: 2018-05-27 11:17:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6282499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keptin/pseuds/keptin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One of their last face-to-face conversations before Frobisher heads off to find Vyvyan Ayrs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	just a song before i go

**Author's Note:**

  * For [itsclppingbitch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsclppingbitch/gifts).



> birthday gift for Kai who has been listening to me rant abt frobismith for like a year

Perhaps the last thing anyone would expect to see was a Qunari barreling through the forest, daggers sheathed at his sides, with an elf balanced on his shoulders and casting spells.

The elf seemed to be having a lot of fun, though, while the Qunari just looked like he wanted to apologize to the bush he had just trampled; it was an uncharacteristic expression for a Qunari, and probably also an uncharacteristic expression for an elf, since most seemed to be more concerned with the political climate concerning their clans and alienages. But Frobisher hadn’t lived in the Dales for a long time, and Sixsmith-- Rufus, now-- had been years out of Seheron. They were two outcasts, then, which was probably how they had found each other.

They stopped in a clearing, Rufus letting Frobisher off his shoulders and brushing leaves from his pants as Frobisher picked a twig from his wavy hair. Something was bothering him, and he was working out how to say it, how to piece the sentences together into both a proposal and an explanation. Rufus noticed first, though.

“Something on your mind?” he asked; Frobisher frowned, his brow furrowing, then nodded slowly.

“What do you think of Tevinter, Rufus?”

The Qunari blinked down at him. Frobisher sighed, running a hand back through his hair.

“I know, a million billion years of war between Tevinter and Seheron and all that,” he said, waving a hand flippantly, “but aside from that, what was it like when you were there? When you were a Sixsmith?”

He looked up at Rufus, his expression imploring, and Rufus had to just sigh. Their circumstances were different, having come from different backgrounds and hardly knowing what to compare in the other’s life. There was no way Rufus’ experiences in Tevinter, sacking cities, would mean anything to Frobisher, just as there was no way anything Frobisher said about life in his clan or as an apostate would mean anything to him. They could care for each other, but that was the extent of their understanding.

“Burning, for starters.”

That got a sharp laugh out of Frobisher, a smirk quirking the corner of his mouth for just a second. This must be serious, then, not just Storytime with Rufus.

“Why do you want to know about Tevinter?” Rufus asked, sitting on the soft ground and watching as Frobisher did the same. “You don’t usually ask things out of the blue like that without some kind of motive.”

“Motive; you think highly of me, don’t you?”

“The highest. Now, what is it?”

Again, Frobisher sighed, and his eyes took on a sharper quality. Rufus could practically smell the scheme cooking behind those eyes, and he was equal parts intrigued and worried. Then Frobisher looked up, seeming to have made a decision.

“Rufus, I’m going to travel to Tevinter,” he said at last. “There’s an old magister in Minrathous-- Ayrs, I think his name is. Syphilitic windbag of a man, apparently. Half-blind, half-deaf, can barely cast his own spells anymore, let alone come up with new ones.”

Rufus nodded, encouraging Frobisher to continue; the elf got wordy when he was nervous, and it was best to just let that run its course.

Frobisher looked up, as if coming up for air, and then, seeing Rufus’ expression, launched into his explanation once more. “He’s sent word for an apprentice,” he continued. “Technically, the notice went to the Circles in Ferelden and Orlais but he won’t be expecting an elven apostate to show up at his doorstep, eager and bright-eyed.” He snorted at that description, ridiculous to apply to himself. “Fresh from the Dales and ready to learn. Stop me if I’m rambling, Rufus-” he was, Rufus didn’t- “but I believe I could make a name for myself off of unsuspecting Magister Ayrs. Fame and fortune I’d never even dreamed of when I was traveling with my clan. I’d share it with you, of course, if we found a place-- together, I mean-- outside of Tevinter. A proper place, not a collapsible camp wherever the ground is soft enough to jam a stake.”

He watched Rufus’ face for any sort of reaction, but the Qunari’s face was inscrutable, his eyes looking around and his brow furrowing and his strong jaw working as he sat and thought. He never liked to go into a decision without thinking, which made him a perfect (and perhaps necessary) match for Frobisher, who liked to follow his fancy wherever was interesting and seemed to have little to no sense of self-preservation. If Frobisher went to Tevinter, would he be treated poorly, as an elf, or treated well, as a mage? Rufus erred on the side of caution, as he did most things, considering even mages could be slaves, and were treated poorly. It wasn’t a good idea, he thought, for one to go to a country where they might be subjected to harsh treatment at best and immediately put oneself in a subordinate position.

“I don’t think you should do it,” Rufus said, shaking his head. “You’re a mage, but you’re also an elf, and I’m afraid that-”

Frobisher cut him off with a wry smile and a flourish, pulling a folded leaf of vellum from his pocket and handing it to Rufus. It was tiny in his large hands, and he took care to unfold it.

He realized then that he was staring at a ticket to board a ship to the Free Marches. Then Frobisher would be off through Nevarra to get to Minrathous. The ship was set to leave early the next week, so Frobisher would have to move quickly if he wanted to depart on time.

Suddenly, the thought of being without Frobisher was paralyzing.

“The trip cost you nearly twenty sovereigns,” was what Rufus said, and Frobisher nodded.

“It’ll be closer to forty by the time I get to the old toad’s house,” he replied, a sad tint to his voice. “Oh, Rufus.”

Rufus was already leaning forward, cupping Frobisher’s face in one large hand and kissing him softly. The elf’s eyes fluttered closed, his lashes dark against pale green vallaslin, his breath a whisper against Rufus’ lips.

“I’ll be back, you ass,” he said, his words playful but his tone something else as he reached out, running light fingertips down Rufus’ arm, along the curl of his right horn, over his grayish cheekbones. It was as if he was trying to memorize him. “They don’t have Templars over there, after all. If they do, they must be very bad at their jobs.”

It earned a weak laugh from Rufus, his hand still resting against Frobisher’s cheek.

“Kadan…” he said quietly, and Frobisher tilted his head to kiss Rufus’ palm. Nothing he said would change Frobisher’s mind, he realized. He could only hope for him to stay safe and return someday.

“Find me,” Frobisher said. “When I come back, I’ll be waiting for you, here, where we kissed.”

It was good enough.

**Author's Note:**

> -frobisher is a Dalish elf mage  
> -sixsmith is a Qunari rogue  
> -i have no idea what a sixsmith would be but anyway thats what sixsmith's role was under the qun  
> -sixsmith gave himself the name rufus when he became tal-vashoth


End file.
